


The Girls

by bactaqueen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky gets the girls drunk first, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, blowjob, last night at home before shipping off to war trope, m/f/f threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant James Barnes, the 107th, is shipping out tomorrow. His best friend has left him alone with their dates. What else is a guy supposed to do on his last night Stateside?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girls

**Title:**  The Girls  
 **Author:**  bactaqueen  
 **Rating:**  M  
 **Warnings:**  Bucky is a manipulative shit, oral and manual sex only  
 **Setting:**  during  _Captain America: The First Avenger_  
 **Characters:**  Bucky Barnes/Connie/Bonnie  
 **Disclaimer:**  This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.  
 **Summary:**  Sergeant James Barnes, the 107th, is shipping out tomorrow. His best friend has left him alone with their dates. What else is a guy supposed to do on his last night Stateside?  
 **Author’s Note:**  Come on, you know Bucky did this. It's part of the reason he liked double dating with Steve so much.

 

"...I'd settle for just one."

Bucky smirks. "Good thing I took care of that." He raises an arm to wave at the girls, Connie and Bonnie, darkness and light, standing just where he told them to, waiting.

He's gotten good at this, pulling the bait and switch. Every bad girl has a good girl friend--and every good girl likes to prove to her bad girl friend that bad men just want to be tamed. He knows Bonnie won't give Steve the time of day, and while part of him is sorry to be using his buddy like this, the part of him that ships out tomorrow--to, he's fully aware, probably die in some trench in Europe if he's lucky and in one of Hitler's death camps if he's not--is not sorry. Not at all.

He puts his hands on Connie's slim waist and dips down to kiss her. It's not right and she turns her face, but not before his intention is clear. He likes the quiet laugh she gives, the shy admonishment. Bonnie glowers at him and tries not to and it's so fine he has to turn away to hide his smile as he introduces Steve.

Poor Steve. Shuffling his feet and faking a smile like he's got some hope. Someday he'll make it up to him. Maybe.

He links his fingers with Connie's and gives Bonnie a wicked grin. "Where to first, girls?"

*

She sidles up to other GIs and tosses her hair and dances with them. She tries to make him jealous. He doesn't mind, just smiles and tips his hat or raises his glass, and her cheeks go pink and her eyes flash. He can't help laughing at her. He likes the anger, especially compared to Connie's sweetness.

The night wears on. He dances with Connie, sneaking quick gropes of her skinny rear end that make her slap his hands away and laugh. Even though she protests, he keeps her drinking, glass after glass of sweet red wine until she's swaying into him and looking at him with dreamy eyes. Bonnie, he notes without surprise, skips the wine in favor of whiskey. He's dealing with a devil and an angel and if he plays his cards right, he'll have both in his hands by the end of the night.

When he kisses Connie and she doesn't resist, not even a murmur, he knows it's time. He slides his arm around her and looks expectantly at Bonnie.

"Let me walk you girls home."

Connie leans against him, her body soft and warm pressed to his side. Her fingers dance along his waist, right under the edge of the belt, and he knows it'll take some work but he's pretty sure she'll be worth it.

Bonnie glowers at him, a little bit drunk, her hair disheveled and her dress wrinkled. He saw her sneak off with a corporal an hour or so before and come back looking irritated. Bonnie always looked irritated, that wasn't too new, but part of him wanted to tell her she should have waited.

Bucky Barnes never left his dates disappointed.

He reaches for her hand and takes the girls out into the night.

They walk along, Bonnie and Bucky silent, Connie chattering about the expo and the music, punctuating her monologue with giggles. Bucky steals more than one grope down her backside and she doesn't resist, only pushes closer to him. He rubs his thumb back and forth over Connie's hand where she lets him hold her and he gives her quick little glances, asking without asking,  _"Are you in?"_  She doesn't let him know either way and he kind of likes that, likes that she's going to make him work for it.

They pass a man packing up his kiosk for the night, and Connie breaks away from Bucky. "I'm going to get a poster," she mumbles, fumbling with her purse. Before she can fish out her change, Bucky's presenting a nickel, face up in the palm of his hand. She gives him a wild grin and leans up to kiss his cheek and stumbles off to buy her souvenir.

"Getting her drunk was mighty ungentlemanly of you, Sarge."

Bucky checks that Connie is occupied, then pulls Bonnie in quick against him. He drops a kiss on her lips, hard and fast, before he returns her to her place beside him. He squeezes her hand. "I never said I was a gentleman."

She looks breathless and frazzled. "You can't have us both."

"Can't I?"

Bonnie tosses her hair. "You don't deserve us both."

That makes Bucky smirk. "Which one of you do I deserve, then?"

She meets his gaze. Her face is set, but there's a sparkle there in those green eyes that he likes. "Neither of us."

He grins at her. "I disagree."

Connie appears at his elbow and slides her arm around him. "You disagree about what?"

Bucky winks at Bonnie as he slides his arm around Connie's waist and palms her hip. "I think the Dodgers will do just fine this year. Shall we, girls?"

*

At their door, Bonnie goes inside, leaving Connie and Bucky standing in the cool dark hallway. Bucky cups Connie's face in his hands and kisses her, long and slow and sweet, with all the practice of a man who has been here many times before.

"Invite me in," he murmurs against her lips. He nips and licks and feels her fingers curl against his sides.

"I shouldn't." She's breathless. "Connie is-- And I'm not--"

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he says, fully aware that it's a line and knowing that it'll work, "for Europe." He lets that hang between them as he shifts his body closer and kisses her again, sliding his tongue in along hers.

She makes a quiet sound into his mouth and he feels her soften, surrender. "Would you like to come in?"

He combs his fingers through her hair, loosening the pins, finding them all. He smiles down at her. "I'd love to."

Connie lets them in. It's chilly but Bonnie is already on her knees in front of the fireplace, poker in hand, coaxing the embers into flames. She's stripped down to her slip and dressing gown. She looks up, smiling, when Connie slips inside, but she scowls when she sees Bucky. She gives Connie a reproachful look.

"What is he doing here?"

Connie looks helpless and embarrassed, cheeks flushing. Bucky shuts the door behind him and locks it, then takes off his hat and hangs it on the coat rack. When he turns back and Connie still hasn't answered and Bonnie is still looking angry and disappointed, he slips an arm around Connie's waist and kisses the back of her shoulder. He winks at Bonnie.

"What do you think I'm doing here?"

Bonnie glares. It's a good look on her. He grins.

Connie pulls away from him, flustered. "Have a seat, Bucky. I-- Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, doll." They've had enough, he thinks, but a little more won't hurt. It'll give her something to do and give him a chance to talk to Bonnie. He toes off his shoes and loosens the belt over his jacket, careful not to wrinkle anything. If this goes the way he plans, he'll be walking back to the barracks early tomorrow morning. He can't let the boys see him looking less than regulation. He shrugs out of the jacket and gives her his most winning smile. "What have you got?"

"I don't know," she says. She looks at Bonnie for help.

Bonnie sighs and pushes herself up from the floor. "There's some sherry in the cupboard. Bring my mom's glasses, too. Might as well." She looks at Bucky. "If you can manage not to break them."

He smiles lazily at her. It feels like victory already. He reaches up to loosen his tie and says, "I don't plan to break anything tonight, sweetheart."

The look on her face says she might like to break him.

Bucky doesn't mind. Lots of them are like that. He starts ambling around the living room, making his way toward Bonnie. Connie smiles uncertainly at him and then disappears through a doorway. He hears cupboard doors coming open and glasses clinking, and he figures he has just enough time...

"What are you doing?" Bonnie whispers fiercely at him.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He glances meaningfully toward the kitchen. "It's my last night home, sweetheart. What would you do?"

She gives him a look and she's starting to crack. He can see it.  _"Her?"_  And there's some incredulity in her voice.

"You, too."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but there's a shattering from the kitchen, and Connie's sharp expletive. Bucky would be amused by that--Connie seems too sweet for those words, or so he thought--but he's focused on the shape of Bonnie's mouth and the color of her lips.

"I just need a few more minutes, okay?" Connie calls from the kitchen.

"Do you need any help?" Bonnie takes a half-step away from him.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just a few minutes."

Bonnie turns back to Bucky. He could give her a chance to chastise him, maybe call him names--or he could step in, put a hand on her side, and kiss her. He opts for the kiss. Her mouth is warm and soft, the surprised "o" shape of her lips giving him the perfect chance to lick his way in over her tongue. Her dressing gown brushes the back of his hand and the silk of her slip under his palm is smooth, warmed by the heat of her body.

"We're not like that," Bonnie gasps when he breaks the kiss.

Bucky peppers kisses over her cheek and slips his hand from her hip to her thigh. "Like what?"

"Like-- Like you're used to, apparently." Her fingers grip his arms. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer, not even with a question. He just keeps half his attention on the kitchen doorway, slides his mouth down Bonnie's neck, and pushes his hand under the hem of her slip. Her thigh is warm, but best of all is the slight damp heat he encounters at the apex of her thighs. He rubs his fingers over her, just enough to elicit a very quiet moan.

"You can't tell me you don't want this," he murmurs.

She shivers.

He grins to himself and drops his hand. He kisses her once more, then pulls away.

She huffs at him. "You--" She's flushed and looking half-aroused, half-embarrassed.

He winks and drops down in the center of the couch. "Me, what?"

"You what what?" Connie comes around the corner of the doorway, carrying a bottle of sherry and three small glasses on a silver tray.

Bucky isn't sure how to answer that, but he doesn't have to. Bonnie makes a disapproving sound and rushes to take the tray from Connie.

"Your dress!" She sets the tray on the table at the end of the couch and turns back to her friend, dismay on her pretty face. And something else. Something calculating.

"Oh, it'll be all right," Connie says, smoothing a small hand over the wet stain that stretches from her belly to her thighs. She takes a few more steps, and Bucky can smell the sweet of the alcohol.

"You need to get out of it." Bonnie's voice brooks no argument.

Connie blushes and shoots Bucky a shy glance. "I mean, I don't really have anything else appropriate for--"

Bonnie hushes her and wraps a hand around her wrist. She starts to tug her back toward the kitchen. "Don't worry about it." She glances at Bucky. "Make yourself comfortable, we'll be right back."

Bonnie hustles Connie out of the room before he can say anything. He watches them go, and once they're around the corner, he hears the low murmur of voices. He knows what that means. It's either very good or very bad. He sighs. The least he can do, he thinks, is start on the sherry. So he does.

He's a few sips in when they return, and it takes his brain several seconds to understand what it means that Connie is now down to slip and dressing gown, just like Bonnie, and there's a high blush on her cheeks. She meets his eyes for a moment and must not see what she wants, because she looks at Bonnie.

"I thought you said--"

"He's a man, isn't he? Remember, they're not as smart as they like to think." Bonnie puts a hand on Connie's back and shoves her forward. "Prove it, Bucky. Tell her what you told me."

Bucky looks at Connie, standing in front of him and looking small and unsure of herself. He sets his glass aside and wraps a hand around her wrist. He tugs her close, and she falls to her knees on the couch beside him.

"What did she tell you, sweetheart?"

"That you're here for both of us."

"She's right." He curves one hand around the back of her neck.

"But I thought-- I mean-- Not me?" She looks hurt.

Oh, that won't do at all. He tips his head up and brings her down for a kiss. She's not into it, stiff and resisting. So he changes tactics. He kisses her firm lips and her chin, and then her hot cheeks. "You," he says, and nods at Bonnie, who has settled on the couch on his other side. "And her."

"But why? I mean, why two of us?"

Bucky gives her a lazy smile. "Because one dame is great--and two is better." He pulls the first pin out of her hair. "And because if I'm going to die over there, I've got a few things I'd like to do first."

It's the word "die" that widens her eyes and very subtly changes the expression on her face, and it's all he needs. He tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her down. Her mouth is so soft, so warm, and he lets himself get lost for just a moment, tasting every inch of her, reveling in the little surprised sigh she gives. He works the pins out of her hair and drops them one by one to fall where they may and he works his tongue along hers, along her lips, until she's moaning quietly and pressing close to him.

Connie breaks the kiss, pulling back to breathe hard, and she stares wide-eyed at him. "You're not making any promises, are you?"

That makes him blink. He leans away, just a little, enough to bump into Bonnie, and he tries a smile but it falters. He should have an answer for this--but he's never had the question before. He starts to say, "You can write me," but all he manages is "You--" before Bonnie's hands are sliding around his chest and her lips are on his neck and she's opening the buttons of his shirt.

"It's fine that you're not," Connie says, a touch of earnestness in her voice. She glances over his shoulder at Bonnie and smiles shyly. "Yeah, I think it's fine that you're not."

Then she's kissing him again and Bonnie is opening the buttons of his shirt and pulling it out of his pants and spreading her warm hands over his stomach and chest, and he wonders when he stopped seducing and started getting seduced.

Not that it matters. Connie's tongue is sweet. He tastes sherry and wine and heat. He runs his fingers through her hair as she breaks their kiss. He breathes in deeply, smelling her shampoo and perfume and the lingering sharpness of the alcohol that soaked her. He kisses her temple and her cheek and tries to recapture her lips, but she's sliding down, dragging her lips along the side of his neck, and shifting her weight slightly out of his grasp. He curls his fingers and starts to protest when Bonnie's fingers cup his jaw and she's turning his face. More lips. Another tongue. Whiskey this time, and sharp heat. Bucky breathes in through his nose. Connie licks along his collarbone, above the neck of his undershirt.

Their hands are everywhere. His shirt goes. His undershirt follows. Quick fingers open his belt and the fastening of his trousers, but leave them zipped. A mouth captures his, slides away to be replaced. He's got handfuls of soft curled hair at first, and then silk-clad breasts. Dressing gowns go. Slips follow. Brassieres, drawers, and he's got naked girls swarming over him. It's different for him--normally, he's leading the way. This time, he doesn't have to. His pants feel too tight.

Connie disappears and Bonnie fills his lap. Bucky slides his hands down her back and anchors her to him with his hands spanning her waist. She puts her arms around his neck and rubs her breasts against his chest and kisses him over and over again, until her breath is hot and damp against his skin and she's keening softly.

"Where's Connie?" he whispers.

Bonnie takes one of his hands from her waist and puts it between her legs. "Blankets. Come on, Sarge, I've been waiting long enough." She rocks down onto his hand.

She's slick and plump and he bites back an involuntary moan as he swirls his fingers through her wetness. He falters for a moment when she kisses him hard, and then he's sliding two fingers into her, pumping them, and he's gliding his thumb over that secret part of her that never takes him long to find. This he knows. This he can do. He tightens his arm around her waist, hauling her closer, and he twists his fingers inside her. She gasps against his mouth and rocks her hips and it's not long at all before she's clenching tight around his fingers, nearly crushing them, a fresh flood over his hand to slick her thighs.

He has a fleeting thought for his pants.

She sags against him, absently kissing his throat. He eases his fingers from her and glances up just in time to see Connie spreading blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace. She looks so prim, almost chaste, on her knees, sitting on her heels. Her dark hair falls around her face, her skin is flushed, her nipples are hard. She catches his eye and blushes harder. He smiles lazily at her.

"Saw that, did you?" He nuzzles Bonnie's hair as Connie nods. "Your turn now?"

She grins at him.

He kisses Bonnie one more time--he can't have one of them thinking he doesn't like her or something--and shifts her off his lap. When he stands, she stretches out on the couch, and he takes a moment to just look at her, long and square, small-hipped and small-breasted, but flushed and sated. For now, anyway.

Bucky shoves his pants off. He considers for a moment, then decides to hell with it and pushes his briefs off, too. He watches Connie's face. Some girls--more than some--don't like being faced with a full grown naked man. She flushes and looks away... but looks right back. So he stands there, just long enough to let her look, growing a little harder by the second, and when she raises her eyes to his face, he drops to his knees and meets her halfway.

She comes into his arms, all pliant willingness, and he kisses her and maneuvers her to her back. He has a hunch about Bonnie, so he makes sure Connie is on display when he begins his work. He kisses her, gets her good and hot with her hands in his hair and her breaths coming in quick little puffs. He works his way down her neck and across her collarbones, licking and nipping. She starts making the needy little noises that make him close his eyes and remind himself that this has to last. It has to last as long as it can.

He spends time here, on her tits, lets them fill his hands and his mouth until the whimpers and moans she makes start sounding frustrated. He kisses his way down her belly, teasing his tongue into her belly button just to hear her laugh breathlessly. Her fingers are in his hair and they tighten.

"Bucky..."

"Shh." He licks the line of her hip.

"She's never had that before," Bonnie says helpfully.

"First time for everything," he murmurs. He kisses along the front of her thigh and settles himself between her legs. He closes his eyes, nuzzling up the inside of her thigh, and then opens them.

This is one of his favorite things. Ever. He thinks he likes it even more than all the excuses Steve gives him to punch bullies. He likes the way a girl looks, all hot and wet and open. He shifts forward and touches his tongue to her.

Connie gasps.

Bucky closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her legs, pulling her closer, draping her knees over his shoulders and pressing her thighs to his cheeks. He opens his mouth. She's all slick and slippery, swollen like she's ready to burst. He can't help the moan when he flicks his tongue into her and feels her flutter around him.

She's panting his name, petting his hair and trying to keep herself still. He slides a hand down her thigh, presses it tight against him, and pushes up higher. It doesn't take long, nowhere near as long as he thought it would, before she's moaning, long and deep, and her hips are rocking and her thighs are clenching. He licks her through it, steady flicks of his tongue, and she soaks his face, cheeks to chin. He could spend forever here. Would, if hands didn't stroke over his hair and down his back and mean fingers didn't pinch his ass.

He jerks up, yelping, "Hey!"

Bonnie is there, laughing at him, bending over Connie to kiss him. "I almost believed you enjoy that," she whispers.

He kisses her hard. "I do."

She snorts. Then she's dipping her fingers into Connie, who whimpers, and she's smearing his lips with the taste of her friend.

He meets her eyes and licks her fingers clean.

Something flashes in Bonnie's eyes. He's wholly unprepared when she shoves and twists and he's suddenly on his back, flat, and she's crawling over him, straddling his shoulders.

"Prove it." She's spreading herself open with her own fingers, rocking her hips.

Bucky brings his hands up, squeezes her ass, lifts his head, and gets to work. There's a difference in flavor, just slight, enough for him to think about while he seals his mouth around her clitoris and starts licking, long and slow. He's getting lost, falling into the rhythm of her body, listening to her breathing and swearing at him--what is it about such dirty words from such pretty mouths--when he feels Connie wrap a hand around his cock.

He gasps and falters.

Bonnie presses down on him, desperate. "Don't stop, please, don't stop." She tosses her head back. Her fingertips graze his temples.

Connie's got both hands around his cock and she's pumping him, slowly, exploring. He thinks, wildly, that he'll come before he gets to have any real fun. Then Bonnie's smothering him and moaning and bucking and the thought flees, irrelevant.

"Oh, God." She slumps, sliding back to sit on his chest. She combs her fingers through his hair restlessly and looks down at him with big, glassy eyes. "Oh, you're  _really_  good at that, Sarge."

He grins at her.

Connie's tongue touches the tip of his cock and his eyes roll back in his head. "Oh..."

Bonnie twists and falls and joins Connie leaning over his lap. "Scoot, let me help."

"Girls..."

"Now, now, fair is fair, Bucky."

He raises his head, and Bonnie's licking her lips at him. It's lewd. It makes him grin and put his hands in their hair and shrug his shoulders. It was only a token protest, anyway.

He drops his head back. Four hands, two mouths. Two open, wet mouths. He groans his appreciation as tongues flick, fingers tease, lips slide. Then one of them takes him into her mouth and he nearly comes up off the floor. He breathes out and forgets to breathe in and just lives there, in that moment, fingers and lips and tongues, a safe warm place to get lost, to forget.

It's over too quickly. He doesn't warn her--he should--and she squeals in surprise. She doesn't pull back, though. Just strokes and pumps and sucks him through it, and when it's over and he can't take their touches, he tightens his fingers in their hair and pulls them up to him.

Connie first, and it's in her mouth that he tastes the salty heat. She slides her tongue along his, bold, and her hand gropes down his chest. Bonnie is next, last, licking into his mouth, her fingers in his hair. He could kiss them forever, he thinks. Or at least until he's hard again.

They go on like that, sharing kisses, until they can't seem to anymore, and the girls curl up against his sides, a blond head on his shoulder and a brunette on his chest. He holds them close and closes his eyes and tries not to think about what's going to happen to him tomorrow.


End file.
